


just a painter (and i'm drawing a blank)

by majesdane



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime), Sailor Moon - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-14
Updated: 2008-02-14
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She stands by the fence again after the race, alone.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	just a painter (and i'm drawing a blank)

 

She stands off to the side, apart from the group pf girls huddled along one side of the fence who are watching the racers and occasionally giggling madly and flushing whenever one of them happens to glance over. She's not even sure why she's here; she doesn't care much for motor sports, and cares even less for the type of people who come to watch them. But something keeps her standing there, watching the drivers go by.

And then she sees her.

Tall, blond -- she looks masculine enough to be a boy, though the curves of a girl are there, if you pay close enough attention. Michiru, having a painter's eye, does. The blond is running a hand through her hair, brushing her sweaty bangs out of her eyes. One of the girls in the group calls out to the blond -- _Tenoh-san_ \-- who waves and flashes the girls the brilliant smile. There's something in the way that the light shines off her hair, Michiru thinks, as she watches the driver. Studies her. There's something there that makes her feel a bit flustered inside, like she's nervous, something that makes her catch her breath. Tenoh doesn't notice her, of course. She always takes care to blend into the background, to not be noticed; she doesn't care much for people.But she wants to know this girl -- she's drawn to her in ways she's not sure she even understands.

But at the same time, she knows enough to not get involved. She doesn't have time to dwell on things like this, and the very thought saddens her, because she wants to be able to care. But she can't, and she hates it.

Two weeks later, she finds herself at the racetrack again, and she has to admit that she feels a bit foolish for coming back, but she can't seem to get the blond out of her head, and she thinks that maybe, if she only sees her again, she'll be able to rid herself of Tenoh. The reasonable part of her, of course, knows that this is just wishful thinking, and if she really wanted to forget about her, she'd simply stop going to things like this. But she doesn't want to be reasonable all the time, so she goes anyway.

She stands by the fence again after the race, alone.

Tenoh is over by the fence, talking to a group of girls over by the driver's entrance. The girls seem more than a bit enamored with Tenoh; they don't seem to realize that she's a girl, either. It's almost amusing, really, seeing them get all flustered when the blond flirts with them.

She doesn't notice Michiru at all.

\- - - - -

She tries to paint her.

Nothing ever seems to turn out right, though. Every sketch gets scratched out or crumpled out and thrown in the trash. No matter how she tries, she can't seem to capture the slight curve of Tenoh's lips when she smirks or the way the light bounces off her hair just so. Every aspect of her seems lost, feels too flat. Never before has she felt so frustrated about not being able to draw something. She traces the outline of lips in her head at night before she falls asleep, how her bangs fall in her eyes in that charming, boyish way. It doesn't matter; she can't translate those images on to paper.

She sets her sketchbook aside for a few days, to clear her head. She decides that she's simply trying to hard to make it perfect, and if she stops analyzing it, stops obsessing over every minute detail, she'll be able to get it right. But three days later, when she tries again, every attempt is just as futile as the last. Perhaps, she thinks, if she knew more about the blond, she'd be able to do it. So she goes through every paper and magazine she can find, looking for her name. Tenoh Haruka. The first junior racer that Japan has had in a long time. Skilled in not just F1 racing, but in motorcycle racing and track as well. Michiru finds a black and white photograph of her in one of the articles; a picture of Haruka leaning against her race car, eyes not focused on the camera but at something off in the distance.

Her fingers trace over the picture, run along every line and curve of her body. She wonders what Haruka was looking at when the picture was taken. She's not smiling; it's one of the few pictures of her where she's not. Instead, she looks lost in thought. A bit sad too, Michiru thinks. Like she's trying not to think of something.

Once more she tries to sketch her. It's not perfect, not by any means, but it's a decent enough start. She thinks that drawing Haruka is like trying to draw the wind. You can see it when you close your eyes, can feel it against you, but when you open your eyes, you can't make what you see visible to anyone else but yourself. The more frustrated with trying to capture her on paper she gets, the more she feels drawn to her.

At night she has dreams of her past, of an approaching darkness, covering the land and killing everyone. Just once she wishes that she could dream of Haruka. She looks out the window at the ocean, the moonlight shining brilliantly off the water. She imagines herself in Tenoh's car, driving along the coastline.

She hopes for happy dreams tonight.

\- - - - -

Sometimes it feels like she's about to burst.

There's a strange sort of feeling that washes over her when she thinks of Haruka, and though she's more than little hesitant to use _love_ , she thinks that that may be the only way to describe how she feels. She's not quite sure how she could feel like this, when she only knows Haruka from newspapers and magazines, and has never even talked to her in real life. She's never had those piercing gray eyes fixed upon her, has never heard her name spoken in that low, soft voice. But she has fallen in love with her somehow; it's a sort of certainty that she's not used to.

When at last she discovers that Haruka is _the one_ , her partner in battle, she is happy.

But she hates herself for it, because she does not want to see another, especially Haruka, cursed with her sad fate. She has seen how happy Haruka is; even if she does have the nightmares too, of the end of the world, at least she has not yet had to give up her dreams to be a world-class racer. And even though in her heart she is happy, Michiru wishes more than anything that Haruka was not the one. She thinks that fate is cruel, to bring them together like this.

And then Elza happens to mention that their school is going to be competing in a track and field event with Haruka's. _I know you're a big fan of that Tenoh Haruka,_ Elza says, and offers to introduce Michiru to her after her race.

She brings her sketch book with her; it's her excuse, to talk to Haruka. But it's not a complete lie, of course, because she hopes that maybe now she'll be able to capture Haruka's true form, that she'll finally be able to shape on paper what she has seen in her mind for so long. She watches from a distance, smiles to herself as Haruka wins the race easily, though she feels a bit guilty for it, since she knows that Elza had hopes of winning. Still, she can't help being happy for the blond, and when Elza finally calls her over, it feels as though her whole life has been narrowed down to this one moment in time.

Haruka's eyes are every bit as brilliant as Michiru has imagined. They lock eyes as the blond glares at her, unwilling to acknowledge that she is indeed a soldier, one of the few chosen to fight against the ever approaching darkness.

Michiru doesn't dare look away.


End file.
